The Fire Below
While the heavens cracked with the fury of gods, Zion stood grounded—mortal and unyielding, surrounded by dust, blood, and flame. The skies thundered with the divine clash, but below, the rifts still pulsed, spilling monstrosities into the sacred lands of Nouvo Lakay and its allied tribes.
The battle on the ground had not ended. It had just begun.
The Mortal Front
Ayomi, Ayola, Seal, Elis, and Thalia led the frontline forces—each priestess surrounded by warriors from their subordinate tribes, armed with both steel and sacred rites. They formed a five-point shield around the sacred Gate, defending it with teeth and resolve.
Behind them, civilians fled deeper into the jungle outskirts, protected by younger warriors and runners.
Zion moved through the chaos like fire through dry grass—not as a god, but as something rarer: a leader who had not abandoned his people.
He wielded no divine blade, but his body bore the old marks, faint traces of the blessings he'd once carried. They shimmered faintly beneath the blood and sweat.
And beside him fought warriors of every tribe. Men and women who believed.
The Beasts Pour In
The ground split open again.
A massive centipede-beast the size of three wagons screamed from the pit—its fangs dripping acid. Behind it, three smaller beastlings darted, their eyes glowing, their spines slicked with venom.
Zion gave a sharp gesture. Thalia and her shieldbearers intercepted the left flank, blades glowing red with Ogou's old teachings. Ayomi began a chant that darkened the very air, her staff swirling with black smoke.
Zion ran straight for the centipede.
"With me!" he roared, and his voice ignited courage like dry wood.
The warriors followed.
The Clash
Zion dodged the first strike—rolled beneath the beast's lunge, slashed at its underbelly with a jagged spear carved from bone. It howled. Behind him, a squad of fighters drove in, pinning its legs with spears and ropes.
The creature twisted—and flung a man into the air like a doll.
Zion leapt after him, caught him mid-air, and landed with a heavy roll.
He didn't speak. Just nodded. The man rose—bloody, bruised, but alive—and rejoined the fight.
A Moment of Unity
The priestesses, though separated in space, linked their chants across the battlefield. Pillars of colored flame erupted from the ground as their shared ritual activated, forming a barrier against the next wave of beast rift openings.
Ayola's voice was like birdsong layered over thunder. Elis's was a quiet hum of bone and earth. Ayomi's chant dragged shadows into the open. Seal danced—her movements sharp and divine. And Thalia led her soldiers like a general possessed.
The unity of mortal magic was rare.
Today, it shone.
Zion's Thoughts
As the battle slowed and the rift began to flicker, Zion looked up toward the sky—toward where the gods battled the Beast Lords.
"We can hold here. But not forever."
He felt the truth like a weight.
Then he turned to the fighters at his side—bloodied, bruised, triumphant.
And whispered:
"So we give them a war worth remembering